


how the brave new world arrives

by sevtacular



Category: Holby City
Genre: Advent Calendar, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 06:31:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17239169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevtacular/pseuds/sevtacular
Summary: A short scene for every Berena Advent 2018 prompt.





	how the brave new world arrives

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, look, it's Berena Advent 2018 AFTER Advent 2018! Surprise?

“Bloody board, bloody patients, bloody meetings, bloody weather, bloody traffic…”  
Serena’s in a foul mood as she walks through the door. Late. Meetings that overrun, rush hour traffic, needy F1s who want help to change a dressing and oh. Serena looks fondly at the sight before her as she walks into the sitting room and her stresses are immediately chased away as her heart flutters a little. Cross-legged, rumpled shirt, three different metallic bows somehow caught in the tangled golden strands of her hair and half a roll of sticky tape between her teeth. The sight looks a little like a golden retriever and a chew toy.  
“Bernie, darling?”  
“Mrrrmmmpph?” Comes her partner’s response as she finally tears a piece of the tape of with her teeth and triumphantly goes to stick it between the two pieces of folded paper which are currently held together under her left foot. Unfortunately, the tape misses and the holly-print paper wafts open once more as the piece of tape joins the many others currently strewn across the carpet. Serena sighs. Such a mess shouldn’t be so adorable.  
“Bernie, darling?” She walks forward, reaching into the shopping bag by the sofa. “There’s a reason we bought gift bags.”

-

“But can we see Santa now?” Guinevere whines from where she is stood between them, her two little hands clasped to each of theirs. Serena smiles down at the little girl fondly.  
“Of course we can,” she smiles. “I think he might be ready now.” Guinevere shrieks excitedly and swings between their arms. Beside her, Bernie smiles and directs them towards the shed decked out as Santa’s Grotto in their local garden centre. A young woman dressed as an elf greets them. Likely a student looking for some holiday pay, Serena thinks.   
“Hello little one, I’m one of Santa’s little helpers!” Guinevere looks up at the falsely cheerful woman and pouts.  
“You’re not very little,” she counters, too smart for her own good, that one. The poor woman gapes like a fish but luckily Bernie jumps in to save her.  
“I think lots of Santa’s real elves are busy in the North Pole, so sometimes Santa has to have little helpers who aren’t very little at all.” She crouches down so Guinevere looks at her and misses Serena surreptitiously handing the woman a five-pound note.   
“Okay, let’s knock and see if Santa is ready to see us!” The woman chirrups. Soon, they’re inside the shed decked out with fairy lights and a real Christmas tree, the wonderful pine scent filling the small cabin. Sat on a golden chair in one corner is the man himself. Guinevere grins and clambers over to him. Bernie reaches for Serena’s hand and squeezes.  
“Have you been well behaved?” Father Christmas asks Guinevere.  
“Yes, I have. My name’s Guinevere and for Christmas I really really want some dolls. I have some for my dolls house that Granny Serena and Nanna Bunny,” Guinevere pauses as she points and grins at them in turn, “gave me, and I love playing Mummy and Daddy and Gwenny with them but what I reeealllly want is some Granny Serena and Nanna Bunny dolls. I saved up all my pocket money and went to the big toy shop with Mummy and Daddy but they only had Grandma and Grandad sets and I want two Grandma dolls. Daddy says it’s very rude that they don’t make sets that are incru… inclu…” Guinevere pauses for breath and looks at Bernie and Serena, her little eyes shining and her brow furrowed as she tries to concentrate on remembering the very big new word she got taught.  
“Inclusive, sweetheart?” Bernie supplies, guessing at what Jason might have said to his daughter. Guinevere nods and looks up at Father Christmas. Bernie looks at Serena who, beside her, is squeezing her hand and looking at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from falling. The dolls house had been Elinor’s, so to know that little Guinevere wants to play happy families in it means the world to her. Especially as she didn’t realise that the girl wanted figures for her and Bernie to be included in the family adventures every playtime.   
Father Christmas smiles and ruffles Guinevere’s hair.  
“I’ll see what I can do, young one. Now, for being a really lovely girl today, here is an early Christmas present.”  
He reaches into a red sack trimmed with fur on the floor and pulls out a beautifully wrapped gift. Guinevere looks like he’s just presented her with the moon. She hops down from the jolly old man and skips delightedly over to where they’re standing.  
“Come on, Gwenny,” Bernie says. “Let’s take you home to Mummy and Daddy.”

-

“Uh-waye in a MAYNEgerrrrr, no creeb for a beeeeaaaddd”

Bernie grimaces. Across the ward, Cam suppresses a giggle.   
“The leetelll loohrrrd Jaaeeeyyyyzusss layd down his sweet hayyydddd”

Bernie’s grimace turns into a full-on groan and Cam’s chortle turns into a nasty cough. Just as she thinks nothing can make the situation better, she’s proved wrong by Serena walking through the door of the office. Bernie pauses. Serena’s not due on shift, she’s off today.

“Hello darling,” Serena purrs, leaning down to kiss Bernie not all that chastely, considering where they are.  
“Uh, hello?” Bernie’s greeting comes out as more of a question. Serena sighs.  
“The cover locum has cancelled so I’m coming in for the night shift. Looks like you’ll have to have a hot water bottle to keep you warm instead. Sorry, darling.”  
Bernie sighs. Her day has just got worse. But she understands. Patients come first for both of them, it’s why they understand each other so well.  
“So, any updates on the patients?” Serena asks, back to business. Bernie groans as the caterwauling outside the office begins again.  
“We’ve got two thirds of the world’s smallest church choir who overdid it on the G&Ts at their Christmas party and accidentally downed vodka instead of water, I kid you not.” Bernie supplies. It would be funny, really, if they weren’t such terrible bloody singers. “Because of their age we’re keeping them in overnight until they’re sober.” Serena looks out of the office door and raises an eyebrow at the din. The she reaches for the telephone.  
“Hello, Ric? Yes, we’ve got some patients taking up bed space for patients who are bound to be involved in trauma at this time of year. Mind if we send them up? They just need obs because they’re elderly. Yes? Super. Merry Christmas.”

Bernie looks at Serena in shock as her partner grins at her smugly.

“Why didn’t I think of doing that hours ago?”

-

“If you think I’m wearing that for the work’s do then you’re sorely mistaken.”   
Serena’s voice breaks Bernie out of her reverie from where she’s been stood in the centre of Holby City centre pondering over Serena’s Christmas present.  
“Hm?” She focuses her gaze on the window display she’s been unknowingly staring into and immediately blushes as the sexy Mrs Claus outfit comes into view.

“I… Uh, I wasn’t…” Bernie trails off as her mind unhelpfully supplies images of Serena wearing the outfit on display. Serena raises an eyebrow amusedly.  
“No, darling, I expect not. However, I might, if you’re very good, consider the red lace-topped stockings for underneath my Christmas party outfit. You can unwrap me once we get home.”

-

“He’ll be no trouble, honestly.” Elinor smiles as she hands over the lead and coat. “It’s only for a couple of days, promise. Libby and Dad wouldn’t because Libby was worried about her new furry rugs. You’ve got hardwood floors so it’s no problem.”

Serena soon realises that it is a problem. A great big (or little) problem with a wagging tail and dark eyes and more enthusiasm for the world than Serena thinks anyone she’s ever met has. Bernie takes to the dog immediately, playing little games with it, chasing it round the garden, feeding it treats. Serena is having so much fun watching Bernie fawn over the dog that Ellie’s back before they know it, taking the pup back.  
Later, Bernie looks at the rug forlornly.  
“Serena…” The way her voice changes pitch ever so slightly as she finishes tells Serena exactly what is coming next.  
“No, absolutely not.”  
“Not even if I’m very good?”  
“Hmmm,” Serena looks at the rug too, memories of brown eyes and little snores surfacing. “We’ll see in the New Year.”

-

“You can take that ridiculous hat off,” is the first thing Serena says upon arriving home to find Bernie wearing a ridiculous Kiss The Christmas Cook! Apron and a hat with jaunty sprig of mistletoe attached. Bernie pouts in faux annoyance.  
“But they were my Secret Santa gifts.”  
“Yes. Nurse Fletcher will not be having such a nice gift in years to come.”  
“But are you not the teeniest bit enticed to come and kiss me with all my Christmassy charm?” Bernie leans against the countertop and Serena tries not to be distracted by her gorgeous profile.  
“Of course not. Why should I want to kiss you?” Serena huffs and looks at the ceiling, trying very hard to ignore Bernie who is now softly padding across the kitchen towards her, her socked feet whispering against the floor.  
“Not at all?” She asks, kissing Serena’s cheek.  
“Not one little bit.”  
“Not even for Christmas?” She kisses closer to Serena’s lips. Serena tries not to respond. “Not even if I wrap my hands around your waist and mpppff”

-

“They’re late.” Serena opens the door and walks down the garden path for the fifth time in as many minutes, the tension radiating off her in waves. Bernie, stood in the doorway, attempts to placate her.  
“They’re only ten minutes late, I’m sure there’s a valid reason.”

Serena continues to pace frantically, her mind filled with turkey – with her mother’s stuffing recipe – burning and being thrown away. She returns to the warmth of the house as her phone chimes with a text alert.  
“Oh,” she says, some of the tension leaving her frame. “Their car has a puncture. Fletch is just changing the tyre while Raf keeps the kids occupied. They’ll be another twenty minutes.”

Bernie goes into the kitchen and turns down the oven and the hob so that their dinner isn’t a disaster. Then she turns back round.  
“Twenty minutes, hmm?” She surreptitiously reaches to the dresser where a certain item is stashed before putting it atop her head, the mistletoe sprig bouncing merrily. “Now I wonder what we could spend twenty minutes doing while we wait?”

-

“Come on, Serena!” The cheers of Bernie, backed up by the Fletchlings, are directed towards her current position by the back door.  
“No, thank you.” She says, pulling her hat further down her head. During dinner, soft flakes had started to fall, much to the delight of the children (understandable) and the grown woman (less understandable) who had spent the majority of her Christmas celebrations in the desert (fine, a bit understandable). Serena smiles at the image before her. Raf, Fletch, the Fletchlings, Bernie. All covered in snow but delighted by the fact. So absorbed is she in smiling at the scene that she doesn’t notice the snowball flying through the air towards her until her shoulder is covered in melting slush.   
She glares at the scene, trying to work out who her assailant is. It doesn’t take long.  
“So, Campbell.” Bernie saunters over to her, bobble hat close to falling off her head. “You gonna join in or not?”  
“Oh no,” Serena smirks at Bernie. “Instead I’m going to go inside and plan a very thorough punishment for you for that little behavioural slip, soldier.”  
“Oh, really?” Bernie murmurs, dark eyes glittering as she crowds into Serena’s personal space.  
“Mmmm,” Serena hums, leaning upwards.  
“Kids?” Fletch’s cockney voice breaks the moment. “Come on kids, let’s go home now!”

-

“Oh, umf, yes. Like that. Mmmmm, yes Bernie.” Serena’s moans fill the room and she leans further back into the sofa, pulling Bernie atop her. So involved is she in how good Bernie’s fingers feel, how gorgeous she smells, how close Serena is, that it takes a moment before she realises that Bernie has stopped and is sat astride her looking extremely awkward.  
“Everything alright, Bernie darling?”  
“Um. Serena? Could we perhaps move this to the bedroom?” Bernie’s cheeks are red with embarrassment and Serena reaches to stroke her hair immediately.  
“Of course. Your back? Sorry.”  
“No, ah. Not my back. Your mother.” Bernie nods to the mantlepiece where the photo of Adrienne, taken back when Serena was still a medical student, sits. It’s one of her mother stood beside the town Christmas tree that Serena displays every festive season. But, right now, her presence is killing the mood somewhat. Serena laughs.  
“Oh, if only I knew what she’d say to us doing this on the sofa! Come on, Major, let’s go to bed.”

-

“Look up, boss!” Fletch’s voice is altogether too cheery for Serena at this time in the morning. A cursory glance up confirms her suspicions. Mistletoe.  
“It’s unhygienic and I will not be partaking in any kissing under the mistletoe with my colleagues in this hospital.”   
Serena stalks her way over to bay 4 to begin her shift properly.

The stuff is everywhere. She somehow manages to get caught under it with Raf, Henrik, a very enthusiastic Fleur, and Fletch twice more within the space of her shift. She avoids them all. No hospital kisses on her watch, thank you very much. 

Thankfully, she makes it to the end of her shift with little insult and is surprised to see Bernie leaning against the pillar next to Pulses as she’s leaving. Raising an eyebrow questioningly is all the inducement Bernie needs to explain herself.  
“House got lonely without you, thought I’d walk in then drive you home.” Serena grins, her heart fluttering, and takes Bernie’s gloved hand in hers.

As they’re walking across the carpark, Bernie leans down and presses their lips together. Serena responds happily, humming into the kiss.

“Oi, oi! What happened to no hospital kisses?” Fletch’s yell breaks them apart. Serena glares at him from over Bernie’s shoulder now she finds herself somehow pressed up against the door of her car.  
“I’m not in the hospital now, Nurse Fletcher!” She yells back. Then, as an afterthought she adds. “And Bernie offers far more than you ever will!”

-

“I’ve not been to a carol service in years,” Serena sighs. Bernie hasn’t been to one in even longer. But Jason is adamant. Every year since being a boy he’s gone to a carol service, it was his and his mother’s Christmas tradition. Serena agrees at the rare mention of Marjorie, says they will go.

It’s not as bad as she feared. Her voice gets lost with everyone else’s, so she doesn’t have to worry about the fact that she doesn’t have a musical bone in her body. Beside her, Bernie’s equally as bad that it seems fitting that they have this kinship together, stood holding hands and sharing a hymn book as they sing along to While Shepherds Watched. Beside them, Jason’s face is delighted, his enthusiasm shining through every flicker of the orange candlelight which envelopes them. It makes it worth it.

Afterwards, as they leave, they shake hands with the priest and snag a glass of mulled wine which Serena suspects is a way to try and bribe the non-regulars like themselves into attending more often.   
“Can this be our family tradition now?” Jason looks at Serena and Bernie hopefully. Serena’s heart clenches at the thought of the three of them being a family unit. She smiles, warmed by more than just the mulled wine.  
“Yes, Jason. This can be a family tradition.”

-

“What on EARTH?!” Serena’s exclamation can probably be heard a mile away. Beside her, Bernie stands in slack jawed silence. For their house is decidedly not as they left it when they went to work this morning.

There’s tinsel everywhere and sequins and glittery decorations adorn every surface. A far cry from Serena’s usual reds and greens and browns, the house is now covered. Bernie even thinks she may have seen a sparkly shark (or was it a dinosaur?) ornament hanging from the tree next to the many, many glittery rainbow decorations. 

All becomes apparent when Serena’s wayward daughter appears from the next room, her arms filled with yet more garish decorations.  
“Ellie, darling? Do you mind telling me what exactly you’re doing to my house?” Serena looks like the sequin-covered unicorn ornaments in her daughter’s arms are about to jump up and attack her. Elinor smiles sweetly.  
“Just helping you make the Yuletide gay, Mum.”

-

“I’ve never owned a Christmas jumper in my life.”  
“And I’d never shagged a woman in my life until you appeared so there’s a first time for everything, darling.”

Serena pulls the bright jumper with the cheery reindeer on it over Bernie’s head and grins.  
“Just the ticket. Now come along, after we’ve paid for this, I’ll let you pick me out some Christmas underwear, if you like. If you’re really lucky, I’ll even agree to lace-topped stockings.”

-

“Oh Serena,” Bernie breathes. The room is lit by nothing but the flickering of the candles in the bedside table, their vanilla scent filling the room. On the bed, Serena lies in nothing but the red and white lacy underwear set Bernie had picked out in the shop. No stockings though, they didn’t have any. Bernie most definitely searched thoroughly for that item. Still, the vision before is no disappointment.  
“Ah, ah, no touching soldier. If I’m just in the underwear, it’s only fair you shed some layers.”  
Bernie immediately reaches for her jumper.  
“On second thoughts,” Serena’s voice carries that teasing lilt which makes Bernie weak.  
“Yes?”  
“Take everything off except the Christmas jumper.”

-

“I’m not nearly drunk enough for this,” Bernie protests as she’s handed a microphone and the music starts.  
“I am though,” Serena slurs slightly, leaning against her and rubbing their bodies together. Bernie gulps.  
“I’d rather not give our colleagues a show, Serena.”

But Serena’s not listening, she’s already dancing along to the opening notes and preparing to belt out the words associated with her part of this karaoke classic, too drunk to care that she can’t sing. Bernie closes her eyes and prepares for the worst.  
“I reeeAAALLLY CAN’T STAY!”

-

“This was a terrible idea,” Serena huffs as she collapses onto a seat at the side of the rink. Guinevere continues to shuffle her way around the rink, clutching onto a penguin to keep her balance. Bernie bends down and gently rolls Serena’s trouser leg up.  
“I think you’ll live.” In her professional opinion, Serena’s pride is more bruised than her knee will be. Still, she presses a quick kiss to the reddened flesh just to be safe. Serena smiles down at her.  
“I think I’m done with ice skating.”  
“That’s fine. You get the mulled wine, I’ll finish up with Gwen. We’ve only got 10 minutes left, anyway.”

-

“Serena? You could never be a snowman.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Well, you’re so hot you’d always melt.”  
“That’s terrible!” She whacks Bernie with a cushion for good measure.

“Serena?”  
“Yes?”  
“Are you a Christmas turkey?”  
“Bernie, that is never going to be the start of a good chat-up line.”  
“But you’re the only bird I want to stuff this season.”  
“Bernie, that is absolutely never going to be a good chat-up line.”

“Serena, are you a Christmas pudding?”  
“Is that a reference to my weight?”  
“No, you’re full of booze and I bet you’d be delicious with cream on top.”  
“…”  
“…”  
“Bernie?”  
“Yes?”  
“Have you already bought the cream? It had better be whipped or the bedsheets will need changing and I only did the laundry this morning.”

-

“This is absolutely not how I wanted to be spending Christmas Day.” Jac’s voice sounds through the door to the scrub room and Bernie looks up.  
“No offence, but you’re not the woman I was hoping to spend Christmas Day with either.” Jac rolls her eyes.  
“You’ve gone soft, Wolfe. Spare me the soppy Christmas with the one you love stories. Now, let’s get this surgery done so we can get back to our respective Christmases.” 

Bernie looks into theatre to see the reason they’ve both been called in. Heart attack and abdominal trauma as the drone he’d bought himself flew at speed into his chest. She looks at her colleague and thinks of Serena waiting at home.  
“Okay Naylor, let’s do this.”

-

“It appears I may have been a little overzealous when choosing our tree,” Bernie concedes as they stand on Serena’s doorstep with a huge fir that is definitely not going to fit through the door easily.  
“I thought you said it measured up?” Serena huffs.  
“Measured up to my expectations, yes. I hadn’t measured the sitting room and doorways.” Bernie has the good grace to look sheepish as she admits her error. Serena sighs.  
“I suppose getting the shears from the shed and doing some literal tree trimming won’t do too much damage.”

-

“I’m frozen!” Bernie whines as soon as she’s through the door.  
“Big Macho Army Medic can’t handle a bit of snow?” Serena gloats, coming into the hallway to find Bernie practically hugging the radiator.  
“That’s not a bit of snow Serena, it’s a blizzard! I had to walk home from the hospital, remember?” Bernie turns her puppy dog expression on Serena, who softens slightly.  
“Come on, you. Nice hot bath, nice beef stew, nice early night.” Serena leans in to trace her tongue over the shell of Bernie’s ear to make her point of an early night clear before pulling back, shocked. “You’re right, you are freezing! Get up and into that bath now, soldier!”

-

“What’s at the bottom of your stocking, Auntie Serena?”  
Serena shrugs and reaches into the bottom of her stocking to see what her final stocking stuffer is. She frowns at the unusual shape and pulls it out. As soon as she sees what it is, she looks at Bernie, remembering a not-so-far-back shopping trip. Bernie immediately appears to find the Christmas tree very interesting.  
“It’s a pair of red lace-topped stockings, Jason.”

-

“This is horrendous.” Bernie grumbles into her scarf as she observes the stalls upon stalls of handcrafted knick-knacks.   
“Nonsense, it’s lovely.” Serena chastises her, fawning over some delicate handmade giftbags on one stall before quickly tugging Bernie to the next, where a man is offering his home-made chocolates.

Bernie dutifully troops after Serena until they reach the stall they’re really here for.  
“Mum!” Charlotte calls, waving from behind where she’s selling delicate embroidery pieces, some small enough to hang on a tree, others larger and depicting winter wonderland scenes.  
“Oh, Charlotte! They’re exquisite!” Serena picks up a hoop filled with an intricately stitched collection of woodland animals playing in the snow. “You’re so talented, sweetheart.”  
“Well, I couldn’t be the only family member who can’t use a needle and thread,” Charlotte quips. “I just don’t use mine on people.” She looks up at Bernie, who is tracing her daughter’s beautiful artwork. “Are you enjoying the Holby Makers’ Market Mum?”   
“Oh. Yes. Loving it.” Bernie hopes her smile doesn’t look too forced. Her daughter rolls her eyes and turns to Serena.  
“She hates it, doesn’t she? All the cute crafts and smiling faces ruining her macho soldier image.” There’s a light behind her eyes as she says it though, showing Bernie she’s teasing. Bernie shrugs.  
“You wanted me to come. I’d do anything for my girls.” She looks meaningfully at Charlotte and Serena, feeling a bit emotionally exposed. Serena smiles and grabs her hand.  
“Thank you, darling.” 

-

“Serena?”  
“Yes Bernie?” Serena doesn’t look up from where she’s draping fairy lights along the dresser.  
“What’s this?” Serena turns to look where Bernie is stood.  
“A fireplace?”  
“No, Serena. This.” Bernie picks up the new photo which has appeared on top of the mantlepiece, confusion written across her face.  
“Oh, that. Elinor took a sneaky shot of us the other week and I liked it so I thought it could go there with the other nice photos.”

Bernie looks at herself, her arms around Serena. Then she looks at Elinor, Jason, Adrienne, some various photos of Serena through the years. She smiles and puts the photograph back down. Something warm settles in her chest.  
“Okay.”

-

“I beat you at arm wrestling, remember?”  
“Ah, but there wasn’t a paper crown at stake then. Christmas crackers are serious business, Campbell.”

They hold the red embossed paper and pull. The cracker snaps with a resounding bang and Bernie crows her victory. She pulls out her paper crown and sits it atop her curls. Then she reaches in for the gift and pulls it out, offering it to Serena on instinct without looking at it.  
“Oh Bernie, you shouldn’t have!” Serena’s teasing tone betrays her flushed cheeks as she slips on the plastic ring. Bernie blushes and runs into the hallway where she pulls a small box from the inside of her coat. Returning to the table, she slides it across to Serena and looks at her with infinite fondness.  
“Yes, Serena, I should have.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you did actually read this Christmas nonsense even though Christmas is over then thank you, it means the world.


End file.
